


not with haste

by AmaranthBlue



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Bottom Jesse McCree, Dirty Talk, Fluff, Light Bondage, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Post-Canon, Post-Recall, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Top Genji Shimada, Trans Genji Shimada, Trans Jesse McCree, Wax Play, implied PTSD, no gender/genital based slurs, this is......so dumb and sappy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-01
Updated: 2020-03-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 11:01:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22968913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmaranthBlue/pseuds/AmaranthBlue
Summary: Genji takes the package from him, rolling his eyes, then looks up to Jesse. “I don’t think I can do anything to you against the wall,” he admits, though it is a nice thought. “You’re too tall.”Jesse gives a pointed look around the shop. “Reckon they got a stepstool around here somewhere.”The one where they're retired, in love, and try something new.Late birthday gift for a friend.
Relationships: Jesse McCree/Genji Shimada
Comments: 5
Kudos: 50





	not with haste

**Author's Note:**

> Both Jesse and Genji are trans in this fic. While Jesse hasn't had bottom surgery, Genji has. Masculine and gender neutral language is used for their genitals.
> 
> Title is from [not with haste, by mumford and sons](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E63KrzdflwY)

They’re curled up around each other, Genji’s chin hooked over Jesse’s shoulder, their legs tangled up in the sheets. Jesse’s spine pressed to Genji’s sternum. Morning sunlight pours over the bed, over their naked bodies, and it’s some kind of peace that neither of them have ever really known.

  
It’s not a safe house they’re hiding out in. It’s a home, a real home, out in the middle of nowhere. Genji still prefers the city, but they’re close enough to visit, and it’s better that they lie low.

  
“You’re beautiful like this,” Genji murmurs, pressing a kiss to the crook of Jesse’s neck.

  
Jesse smiles at the touch, finds Genji’s hands wrapped around his torso, and interlaces their fingers. “Sap.”

  
Maybe he is. Maybe they’re both still trying to figure out how to approach each other, even now, after all these years. This kind of thing doesn’t come easy to them, even with all the practice they’ve had.

  
“It’s true.” Another kiss at his neck, chaste, in spite of the beginnings of hickeys starting to bloom along Jesse’s neck, among older ones. They don’t have to hide it anymore—there’s no meetings to sit in, no missions to run, no superiors to impress.

  
“Bet you tell all the boys that.” Jesse turns his head to meet Genji’s eyes, that same crooked grin on his lips that he’s so fond of.

  
“Oh, I used to.” Genji slides his hand over his stomach, feeling the hard muscle still hidden beneath a softened belly. Retirement suits them. Barely. “But then I met this one boy, with eyes like chocolate and a voice like honey, and he ruined me.”

  
“Did he, now?” There’s a laugh in Jesse’s voice, but he plays along, feigning curiosity. Before, he may have just rolled his eyes, batted away the compliments like mosquitos.

  
Progress is slow. But that’s no matter.

  
As long as they’re happy.

  
Genji nips at sensitive skin at his neck, earning a sharp breath from him. “Oh, yes,” he murmurs, listening for the way Jesse’s heart kicks up a fraction of a beat. “He had such clever fingers, and an even smarter mouth, and he would make the prettiest sounds when I fucked him into the mattress.”

  
Sex is easy. Sex, they can laugh about, because at this point they know each other so well that it’s as if they’re attuned to every gentle nerve of each other’s body, how to make their bodies light up and burn like the desert sun, how to pull strings to make backs arch and toes curl and lips part in pleasure.

  
“Sounds like a real catch,” Jesse manages.

  
“He lets me mark him up,” Genji continues, kissing the bruises his teeth have left, letting his hand brush across the trails of red his fingers left across the plane of his back. “And he trusts me. More than anyone else ever has, I think.”

  
“And where’s this handsome, trusting boy of yours run off to?” Jesse squeezes his hand so tightly that he might wonder if something was wrong, but he’s here, smiling so gently, so happily.

  
“I lost him for a few years.” His voice softens, and he squeezes Jesse’s hand just as tightly. “And I didn’t go a day where I didn’t think of him. Where he was, what he was doing, how he felt. If he missed me, just as terribly as I did him.”

  
Jesse lifts Genji’s hand up, and he presses a kiss to his knuckles. So faint he’d barely even know he was there. “Every day,” he says quietly.

  
Genji smiles against his skin. “And now I share a house with him and I get to hear his pretty voice, and look into his gorgeous eyes, and wake up every morning with the most incredible man I’ve ever known next to me.”

  
“You’re a sap,” Jesse declares again, as if he’s not just as much a culprit in the way they’re curled around each other.

  
“Maybe.” Genji admires him for a moment, how the light bounces off his skin. Frames his face so delicately, the arch of his brow, his nose, his jaw. Even his hair glows in the rising sun. Some kind of otherworldly beauty.

  
Maybe he’s a sap. Maybe this is how everyone acts when they’re in love, and he’s just a little late to the party. “Would you want to try something?”

  
“Try what?”

  
Genji shrugs. “I didn’t have anything specific in mind.” No, he was just thinking of all the things he did before he met Jesse, before he calmed down, when he was a horny twenty something with so much money to burn and a long line of lovers. “Just a sex thing.”

  
Jesse nearly laughs. “Oh, just a sex thing, huh?”

  
“Mhm.” Genji lets his free hand drift lower, down to Jesse’s thigh. “Just thinking about how you’d look so handsome if you let me tie you down and tease you for a few hours.”

  
Jesse shivers. It’s almost imperceptible, but Genji’s eyes see so much more, now that they’re prosthetic.

  
“Maybe use some toys on you, too.” He squeezes his thigh, rubs his thumb in circles to focus his attention there. “Oh, Jesse, the things I could do to you with just a vibrator and a pair of handcuffs.”

  
His hips are gently rocking against him, but Jesse doesn’t make any demands, just listens to Genji’s teasing voice in his ear. His eyes close, lashes fluttering in such a cliché way that Genji almost laughs.

  
“Could make you wait for it,” he whispers, kissing at his neck again. “Hours and hours. Make you beg for permission to come, make you earn it. Or I could get you off again and again, make you feel so good, get you so wet for me, Jesse, and you wouldn’t have to do a thing. Just lie back and let me make you feel so good you can’t even stand it.”

  
“Jesus, Genji,” he whispers, his voice streaked with desperation.

  
Genji finally slips his hand between Jesse’s legs, feels how wet he is, and suppresses a smile at the fact that even after years of hormones, Genji can still get him like this. “Would you trust me?” His voice is low as he thumbs at Jesse’s dick, a sharp gasp escaping him. Oh, he thinks it would be so fucking fun to leave him hanging after all this talk, show him what he means, but Jesse’s not even said if he’d like that, yet. He hopes he will.

  
But as much as he loves teasing Jesse, he also loves to watch him come.

  
“I trust you,” Jesse replies, so weak with desire that Genji feels himself getting hard. “I trust you, darlin’.”

  
Genji grinds against him as he slips two fingers into his slit, kissing his neck with wet, open-mouthed kisses, feeling his pulse pounding beneath his lips. “Don’t hold back,” he breathes. “Not this time.”

  
Jesse whines and gasps and moans, throws his head back in the way Genji loves so much, and he looks so fucking beautiful like this, in the throes of pleasure, burning in the morning sun, that Genji slows his pace, just to make it last. Slow and steady, deliberately teasing, maybe.

  
“Genji,” he manages, between gasps. “Oh, fuck, Genji.”

  
He loves how his name sounds on Jesse‘s tongue. No one else has ever held it with such reverence, such desperation, such _love._

  
It could have lasted all day, but Genji finally pushes him over the edge after ten minutes, crooking his fingers lovingly and making his back arch, his body go boneless as he sinks into the sheets, panting.

  
Things are silent for a long moment, the comfortable kind of silence where they press against each other just to be close, just because they can.

  
“So beautiful,” Genji murmurs.

  
“Sap,” Jesse replies, shooting him a grin as his hand slips down to take hold of Genji’s cock.

* * *

The next day, they head out into town and find themselves in a sex shop. 

Entirely new territory for Jesse, but Genji’s been in plenty, albeit in Japan. 

“I can’t do handcuffs,” Jesse murmurs in the back of the shop, rubbing at his wrists. “Askin’ for trouble. But I think I can do rope.” 

Of course not. He’s seen the faint scars around his wrist, at first thought they were from an attempt, but Jesse had told him, late one night in the days of Blackwatch. His old friends, turning on him. 

Genji takes his hand and squeezes it gently. “That’s fine, Jesse.”

He does wonder if a pair of pink, fluffy cuffs might remedy that problem—much less intimidating—but he won’t push. It’s about his comfort. 

Jesse eyes the walls and shelves, picks up a product that’s labeled as _door jamb restraints,_ with an image on the front of a woman whose hands are, sure enough, cuffed and hooked onto the door jamb. He shows it to Genji, raising a judgemental eyebrow. 

Genji takes the package from him, rolling his eyes, then looks up to Jesse. “I don’t think I can do anything to you against the wall,” he admits, though it is a nice thought. “You’re too tall.” 

Jesse gives a pointed look around the shop. “Reckon they got a stepstool around here somewhere.”

Genji elbows him, covering his mouth to hide his laughter at the very thought. “That desperate?” He whispers, aware of the clerk at the front who’s probably had to deal with much worse. 

“Maybe.” Jesse leans in for a kiss, his arm going around his waist to pull him closer. 

“No PDA, please,” a very tired voice from the front calls. 

Genji gently pulls back, meeting Jesse’s eyes with silent laughter. “Sorry,” he calls. 

They separate, begrudgingly. Jesse’s hand finds his, though, and squeezes it, as if reminding himself that he’s still there. 

“Fun later,” Genji murmurs. “For now, focus.”

They browse along the shelves some more, usually just showing off the more extreme products to each other and laughing about it. Quietly, so as not to be disrespectful. 

“I have probably tried about everything they have on display here,” Genji admits, then his eyes catch on a disturbingly realistic sex doll. “Mostly.” 

Jesse picks up a set of candles, then turns them to show Genji. “You tried these?” 

“A few times.” Genji takes them from him, looking over the back. Massage candles. And scented, too. There’s a little instruction piece on the back, detailing proper safety and how not to light your bedroom on fire. And an illustration of someone’s back covered in wax drippings. “Why, are you interested?” He tilts his head as he meets Jesse’s eyes, smiling. 

A moment of silence. “‘Maybe.” 

“You’re very indecisive today.” Genji nudges him, then smiles. “You’d have to shave before we did it.” 

Jesse makes a face. “I don’t know about _that.”_

“You know what wax normally does to hair, don’t you?” He laughs quietly, then unscrews the lid, lifting it to his nose to breathe in the vanilla scent. “Do you want to give it a try?”

Jesse leans in to sniff the candle. Somehow, that’s the deciding factor. “Don’t have any trauma associated with candles just yet, I suppose.” 

Genji leans against him, brushes his thumb over his knuckles. “I’m not going to traumatize you, Jesse.” 

“I know.” Jesse picks up another candle, this one decorated with peaches across the lid and label. He inspects it for a long moment, then his eyes flick up to him, meeting Genji’s gaze. “I trust you.” 

In the end, they pick up not much more than they’d already planned. Rope, the softest they can find, a single vibrator, though Genji had spent plenty of time looking between them all, and the candles. They don’t use any of it for a while, though. 

He doesn’t push it. Though they’re rough sometimes, Jesse’s never been adventurous with sex, at least not that he’s told him. Genji doesn’t mind waiting, giving him the chance to think on it. 

Two weeks later, Jesse brings home takeout and they spend a night on the couch, legs kicked up on the coffee table watching whatever momentarily grabs their interest on TV. They’re both picky. 

They end up settling for an old heist movie, throughout which Jesse has a nostalgic smile as he watches actors in ski masks shove stacks of cash into duffel bags. 

“It’s heavier than that, you know.” Jesse leans in to steal a bite off Genji’s plate, then misjudges how hot it is and makes a face at him. 

Genji scoffs at him, smiling as he pulls the plate out of his reach. “What is?” 

“Cash.” He covers his mouth with the back of his hand, nods to the screen. “One bill’s about a gram. Each brick’s about a hundred grams. That whole bag’s gonna be maybe three hundred bricks, so, thirty thousand grams, which is a little under seventy pounds for us Americans. Maybe more. Ain’t gonna be throwin’ it around like that.” 

“Oh, and you’re such an expert,” Genji teases, knowing full well that he is. “I thought you hated math.”

 _“Pointless_ math.” Jesse’s hand settles on Genji’s knee, not very provocative, just one of the many ways they find ways to be close. “Think you’d be good at it.” 

“Oh?” Genji looks over at him, smiling. They’re not drunk, haven’t had anything in a long while, but it feels like they are. Drunk on each other, maybe. Drunk on this domestic life. “Why’s that?”

But they’re not immune to nostalgia. 

“I think about it a lot.” He leans his head back against the couch cushion, and their eyes meet. “You and me, robbin’ the country blind.” 

“Such a romantic.” Genji sets his hand over Jesse’s. Squeezes it once. He knows that Jesse thinks of those days often, despite how long ago it was. Shockingly, spending half your teenage years on a crime spree is quite formative. 

It’s not as if Genji is any different. Learning how to defend himself from rival yakuza from the moment he could walk and talk. Both of them raised in violence, then stayed in the life for—well, for much longer than they should have. 

Genji sets his plate down on the coffee table, then leans into him, pulls Jesse’s arm around his own shoulders in a needy sort of way, like he’s so desperately missed the attention despite how often they’re wrapped around each other. “Are you in the mood for anything tonight?” He murmurs, setting his hand on Jesse’s thigh. 

He shifts. Spreads his legs, just a little. 

Genji doesn’t move his hand just yet, watching his face. They know each other well, well enough for him to know that his expression isn’t _enthusiastic consent,_ more the face he makes when he’s considering whether or not to say something. 

“I, uh..” Jesse’s face is warm. Genji tilts his head, smiling. “I did shave this morning.” 

“Oh?” Genji’s careful smile splits into a grin. “Is that right?” He slips his hand beneath the hem of his shirt, and sure enough. He can’t help it—he laughs. “Who are you and what have you done with my cowboy?”

“Oh, hush,” Jesse mutters, but he’s quietly laughing. “I just.. wanted to give it a try.” 

“Tonight?” 

“Well, if that works for your schedule.” 

How he loves to see that look in his eyes. When he smiles and his eyes crinkle at the corners and only one side of his lips quirk up crookedly, and it’s the most genuine thing, the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. 

Genji has spent a long part of his life searching for answers in sex. Finding rebellion in it, finding confidence, adrenaline, distraction. Any number of things. Every night he could manage, finding one partner or two or three and just ignoring every other part of life because sex, drugs, partying, that was all that mattered. 

With Jesse, though. He doesn’t need that. He doesn’t need to be constantly seeking out distractions, self destruction, anything and everything. Sex is good. But he’s quite sure that if Jesse were never in the mood again, he wouldn’t be too torn up about it. 

That being said, he’s absolutely excited to wreck Jesse tonight. 

Genji lifts a hand up to comb through Jesse’s dark hair, tugging at it gently. “How about you clean up out here, and I get some things ready?” 

Jesse leans into his hand. “What kinda things?”

“Hush and clean up and you’ll see.” Genji kisses his forehead and pushes off the couch, leaving him with their plates and drinks to pick up, so that he can go take care of the bedroom preparations. 

First thing—switch out their sheets for the old ones that had started to wear thin, just in case they spill some wax, which is very possible depending on how much Jesse squirms. 

And water, just in case he accidentally lights him on fire. Ideally not. With ice, and a towel, in case there’s any burns. 

He wishes he had a little more to prepare. At the very least some sexy outfit, or lingerie, or anything more, but also that would make this feel more serious, which is sort of the last thing he wants to do. Serious sex is possibly the most boring thing, compared to the sex he has with Jesse. When they’re not afraid to laugh and roll their eyes at each other and tease. 

But, finally, he can get those things out of the nightstand drawer where they’d dropped and forgotten about them. 

The rope they’d bought was a lovely, rich red, and he’d bought that color thinking of just how lovely it’d look against the warm brown of Jesse’s skin. 

He drops it onto the bed, against the off-white sheet, and sets the candles on the nightstand, and then Jesse’s leaning in the doorway. “Do I get to peek yet?” 

Genji rolls his eyes and gestures for him to step in, but keeps his eyes on the bed, still searching his memory for the best—safest—way to tie him. If he does want to be tied. “You know you don’t have to do any of this if you don’t want to.”

Jesse comes up behind him, wraps his arms around his waist, presses a kiss to the side of his head. “I know.”

“You’re not doing it because you think it’ll make me happy?” Genji glances at him sideways, covering Jesse’s hands with his own. He always misses his touch, even when it’s only been a few minutes. 

“I’m doin’ it because I been thinkin’ about it for the past two weeks,” Jesse murmurs in his ear. “About the way it’s gonna feel to have you on top of me, actin’ like a fuckin’ tease.” His lips brush against Genji’s neck, not quite enough to call it a kiss. “And because I trust you.” 

Genji tilts his head to give Jesse more access to his neck, smiling. “Oh?”

Jesse’s hands slip down to the waistband of his pants. Still just teasing, but there’s a sharp spike of heat at the invitation. “Thinkin’ about what you’re gonna do when you got me all helpless.” 

“You won’t be able to touch me.” Genji takes hold of Jesse’s wrist, but interlaces their fingers, prosthetic in prosthetic. Carbon fiber to steel. “Do you want to keep this on?”

A beat. 

“Might as well.” He says it casually, but it’s more than that, he knows. 

It’s hard for him to be used to vulnerability. Genji had practice, had time with the Shambali to straighten himself out, but the years between Blackwatch and the Recall were much longer and much lonelier for Jesse than they were for Genji. 

Much lonelier, aside from the price on his head that brought many guests. 

That’s okay. They’re here now, and they’re safe, and there’s no rush for anything. 

Genji turns to face him, wraps his arms so loosely around his neck, and smiles up at him, almost lazy. _Oh,_ the things he wants to do to him. Anything and everything. 

“Get on the bed,” Genji says. 

It’s a fucking delight how quickly Jesse does as he asks, drops down onto the edge of the bed and rubs at his wrists, gives a look at all the things they’d bought, just for this. Just for him.

Genji steps into his space, nudges his thighs apart with his knee to stand between them, and cups his jaw, tilts his chin up to meet his eyes. “You want me to tie you up?” His voice is low and saccharine sweet, like there’s a threat lurking just behind it. 

With Genji’s hands on him, Jesse is silent, his eyes wide and dark, his lips parted just so. His hair just barely falling into his eyes. 

Genji brushes it aside with a thumb, but the strands fall right back into place, just as stubborn as the man looking up at him. 

“Answer me,” he murmurs. 

“Yes,” Jesse breathes, like it’s the first time in a long, long while. “Yes, I do.” 

Genji drops a hand from his jaw, to his shoulder, trails it down to the first button of his flannel, and starts to undress him. One button at a time, slowly, hands at his throat, his chest, down and down and down. “Good.”

Jesse settles his hands on Genji’s hips. If he were younger, Genji might bat them away, tell him no touching, not yet, but he’s soft and so is Jesse, so he leans into his touch and pushes his shirt back off his broad shoulders, pulling back just to admire him. 

“You look like a twink.” 

Jesse looks mortally wounded by the observation and scoffs up at him, shoving him gently. “Ass.”

“A _big_ twink.” Genji grins, leaning down to kiss his forehead. “I don’t remember the last time I saw you without chest hair.” 

“That’s ‘cause you ain’t,” he says plainly, but slips his own hands under the hem of Genji’s shirt, rubbing circles into the synthetic skin with his thumb. “You call me a twink again and you’re sleepin’ on the couch.” 

“Oh, before or after I fuck you silly?” 

That shuts him up, his face heating and the tips of his ears burning. Even after all this time, Jesse still blushes at the thought. It’s stupidly endearing. 

Genji brings his hands up to cup his jaw again, meets his eyes. “You tell me to stop whenever you need.”

“I know.” 

“Don’t try to tough it out to save my feelings. You’re more important than getting off.” 

“I _know,_ Genji.”

Genji brushes his thumb along Jesse’s cheek, grazing the raised scar that runs from his eyebrow to his cheekbone, and gives a small smile. “I know you know.”

“I ain’t made of glass, darlin’.” Jesse meets his eyes, quirking up an eyebrow in that almost-but-not-quite smug way he does. 

He’s not. Genji knows. And with a bare chest like this, it’s much easier to see the proof, all the scars across him, from years and years spent on the run, then in Blackwatch, then on the run again. 

It’s not been a gentle life. 

From the top surgery scars, to the knife wounds, to the cigarette burns, to the signature stars of bullets embedded in his skin, Jesse’s body tells such a story that all the words in the world couldn’t capture. 

Genji would happily spend hours tracing them, asking the story behind each and every one, but he already knows so many. He’s never known someone like this before, inside and out, known the words he’ll say before he does, known his nightmares, known his triggers, known the people who turned him into what he is now. He’s not sure that he even knows himself as well as he does Jesse. 

“Where are your matches?” Genji asks quietly. He drags his thumb over Jesse’s bottom lip, delaying his reply by a good ten, fifteen seconds. 

“Nightstand.” Jesse tilts his chin up, presses a little kiss to his thumb like it’s something else. 

He’s tried to quit smoking, and Genji’s pushed him to, to the point where they have at least three packages of nicotine patches in the medicine cabinet, but every once in awhile he still needs a cigarillo. Guess the matches are good for one thing. 

Genji pulls back, out of Jesse’s reach, and crosses to the nightstand, finding the box of matches that’s very nearly empty. “Peach or vanilla?” 

Jesse takes in a slow breath. “Vanilla.”

The match ignites in one strike, brings with it the familiar sulfur scent, and Genji is incredibly delicate as he lights the candle. “It’s going to take a few minutes.”

“Ain’t in any rush.” 

“Good.” Genji picks up the rope and unwinds it, running his thumb along the length of it. The sensation in his prosthetic fingers certainly has room to improve, but it’s better than it used to be. Technology has advanced and so his body has with it, slowly and quickly and again and again. 

“On your front or your back?” Finally, Genji settles on the bed next to him, takes his hand and wraps a length of the rope around his palm. Just so he can get more comfortable with the texture. 

“Rather be lookin’ at you.” Jesse closes his hand around the rope, studying it. It’s soft, much softer than any rope he’s used to. “This ain’t bad.”

“I certainly hope not.” Genji kisses the crook of his neck, gentle, teeth grazing his skin. “Take as long as you need.”

It takes a minute for Jesse to reply, his head tipping back as he breathes slowly. “You keep teasin’ me and this ain’t gonna last nearly as long as you want it to.” 

Genji sets his hand on his hip, squeezes it, and smiles. “You’ll last as long as I tell you to.” 

A shuddering breath. “Jesus, Genji.” 

Genji takes his hand, traces his fingertips down the inside of his wrist, the faint scars wrapped around the skin. Then, lips to his neck, he begins to wrap the rope around his wrist. 

“As slow as you need,” Genji murmurs, searching the farthest memories of his mind to recall the right way to tie him. Hands together, wrist to wrist. Leave enough slack to keep his blood flowing. 

Jesse turns his head to catch him in a real kiss, pushing closer to him, like he’s somehow not gotten enough attention already. 

“Patience.” Genji leaves extra rope, but checks the bindings, tugging on them to be sure they’re secure. “How do you feel?”

He tries to separate his wrists. Can’t. Though, if he really wanted to, that prosthetic arm of his could bend metal. This rope would be nothing. “Feel fine.”

So far. But Genji wants to be sure. And things can change quickly. “Lay back for me, Jesse.” 

A pause. But Jesse nods, slowly, and backs up on the bed over to the headboard, lying back against the pillows. 

The scent of vanilla is starting to fill the room, and Genji tilts his head as he watches him. 

“What’re you smilin’ about?” Jesse lifts his hands, testing them once again. 

“You.” Genji climbs up next to him, like they’re just lying in bed together, like they don’t have any plans, like it’s just the two of them and nothing else in the world. It might as well be. 

“Me?” Jesse raises an eyebrow, lifts his hands to Genji’s shirt. “You plan on takin’ this off any time soon, or you just gonna keep starin’ at me?”

“Hm.” Genji looks him up and down appreciatively, raising an eyebrow to mirror him. “I don’t know,” he murmurs, settling his hand at the button of Jesse’s jeans. Then, lower. “I could get used to this.”

Jesse sucks in a sharp breath, lifts his hips an inch to try to push into Genji’s touch. “Genji..” Not desperate quite yet, but certainly close. 

“You all worked up already?” Genji keeps his voice low, sweet, and slips his hand into his jeans, and breaks into a grin at how wet he is. “Oh, Jesse, we should’ve done this ages ago.” 

“Genji, please,” he murmurs, rocking against his hand, his own reaching for Genji’s shirt and tugging at it.

“No touching.” Genji pulls away then, sitting up. Jesse tries to follow, but Genji sets his hand on his chest, presses him back onto the mattress to pout up at him. 

“I’m going to tie you to the headboard,” Genji says gently, brushing his thumb over Jesse’s sternum. “Is that okay?” 

Jesse takes a deep breath, closes his eyes, and nods. 

Genji takes the extra length of rope, winding it through the headboard and tying it off. Slow and careful and precise. 

“This ain’t that bad.” Jesse shifts, tugs against the rope, but it stays in place. Hands above his head, it’s a little more dramatic than before, but nothing’s gone wrong yet.

“Oh?” Genji glances over to the candle. The wax has mostly melted, but he doesn’t want to get right into all that. Not just yet.

“Be better if you’d suck me off.” Jesse catches his eyes and grins at him, lifts his hips off the bed as if to drive the point home. 

Genji rolls his eyes, sets a hand on his hip and flattens him against the bed. “I’ll consider it.” Though he does tug at the waistband of his jeans, pulling them down and revealing yet more scars along Jesse’s skin. 

The jeans end up crumpled on the floor, and Genji swings a leg over Jesse’s lap to straddle him, cupping his jaw once more. Their eyes meet and Genji can’t help but laugh, seeing him laid out like this. 

“What?” Jesse smiles with his tongue between his teeth. “Why’re you so giggly?” 

“Because.. you.” Genji leans in for a real kiss, their bodies pressed against each other, and—maybe it’s a little unfair that Jesse’s so exposed and Genji’s not even undressed yet, but it’s so good to tease, and he finds himself idly grinding against him, trailing kisses from his mouth to his jaw to his neck, carding his fingers through his hair. “You look so fucking good,” Genji whispers against his skin, and Jesse groans in reply. “So fucking good, Jesse.” 

The headboard creaks as Jesse pulls forward again, tries to grab at him. “Genji,” he breathes. He says it like he doesn’t want to forget it, like he’s clinging onto it desperately. “Genji, please.” 

He mouths at his neck, teeth grazing his skin, and he does miss the feeling of Jesse’s arms around him, the way they’re used to grabbing and groping at each other. But this is good. This is fantastic, seeing him breathless like this. 

“Take your goddamn shirt off,” Jesse mutters, hooking his leg around Genji’s. “I swear to God, I’m about to rip it off you.” 

Genji laughs against his neck. “Tempting. I will keep that in mind for another time.” But he’s soft, and he sits up just enough to pull his shirt over his head and toss it somewhere off the bed. “Better?” 

“Much,” Jesse replies, trying and failing to sit up, what with the weight on his hips and his hands tied to the headboard. “Fuck.” 

“Soon.” Genji laughs at his own stupid joke and presses a kiss to Jesse’s sternum, earning another groan, though this one is a little more frustrated. All in good time. 

Though. 

He inches lower, leaving a trail of kisses along his chest, visiting each pinkened scar along the way, and making a point of taking his time. 

If he thought Jesse had enough patience, he’d make him wait all night. Though that is a little mean for their first time trying this. 

He slides his fingertips down to his thighs, leaving goosebumps in his wake, and kisses the waistband of his boxers, no more than a chaste peck after all the marks he’s already left. 

“Please,” Jesse manages, his voice streaked with desperation. How long has it even been? 

“Please _what,”_ Genji replies, and he can’t hide his grin. 

Jesse drops his head back against the pillows, groaning and maybe even pouting. “You know what.”

“Oh, Jesse, I don’t think I do.” Hands on his thighs, Genji spreads Jesse’s legs with a light touch, and takes the time to kiss at his thighs until he gasps. 

_“Please_ suck me off,” Jesse finally manages, only after having it teased out of him. 

Genji watches his face, half to stall, half to admire him. His hair sticking to his forehead with sweat, his eyes dark with want, his lips red and raw. “Like you really mean it,” he says, soft. Softer than it should be. 

Jesse lets out a string of swearing and pleading, so vulgar that Genji drops his forehead against Jesse’s thigh and laughs at his creativity, which only serves to make his pleas all the more desperate. 

“Genji, honey, if you don’t put your goddamn mouth on me I’m gonna break this fuckin’ bed just so I can jack off. Fuck. You’re killin’ me, you’re gonna fuckin’ kill me if you keep fuckin’ _laughin’—”_

“I’m sorry,” Genji laughs again, kissing his thigh as if in apology. “I will suck you off. And then tomorrow I will get you a swear jar.” 

“You are so goddamn mean to me—” Jesse doesn’t finish the rambling thought, because Genji pulls his boxers down just enough to take him into his mouth and Jesse practically keens, his whole body tightening up as he gets that direct sensation he was begging so desperately for. 

Normally, when they do this, Jesse has one or both hands in Genji’s hair, the other grabbing fistfuls of the sheets. He does miss that sensation, just a little, but it’s worth it to hear the bed creak and Jesse swear and feel him hooking his ankles around Genji’s body to keep him right there where he should be, and it just makes Genji work harder to hear his gasping breaths and moans and affectionate names and, yes, multitudes of four letter words. 

Maybe they should actually get a swear jar. 

“I hate this,” Jesse manages, tugging at the rope again. His fingers flex and ball into fists like he’s looking for something to hold onto, but with the way he’s tied, there’s nothing. 

Genji pulls away immediately, meeting his eyes. “You want me to untie you?” Not asked in a sexy way, asked in the way that he’s wondering if this has somehow triggered him and he needs something way different than oral at the moment. 

“No, no—yes—no. Fuck. I’m fine.” Jesse closes his eyes and drops his head back against the pillows, takes in a lungful of air. “I am okay. You’re just fuckin’ killin’ me with your mouth and I want to touch you. Not an episode. Promise.” 

Genji sets his hand on Jesse’s knee, a reassuring rather than teasing touch. “You trust me?”

Jesse opens his eyes, meeting Genji’s, and nods. “I trust you.”

That’s all Genji needs. He leans in again, kissing at the inside of his thighs, letting Jesse breathe sharp and sudden at the teeth on his skin. 

_“Tease.”_ Jesse swears softly, shifts his hips as if to draw his attention back to his dick. 

Genji laughs quietly, and Jesse takes a breath as if to berate him for it again, but he settles his hands at Jesse’s thighs and takes him into his mouth once more, almost grinning at the sound of relief that comes pouring from Jesse’s lips. 

It’s good to hear that beautiful voice, overwhelmed with sensation, his hitching breath and heaving chest, the red wrapped around his wrists. Too far gone to even beg, now, his eyes shut tight and head tipped back. 

No matter how often they do this, he’ll never get tired of it. 

Jesse comes with a cry, his back arching off the mattress, turning his head to bury his face in the pillow as every part of him falls to pieces. He doesn’t even say anything yet, just breathes, and Genji almost wonders if he’s off in space when Jesse bumps his knee against Genji’s shoulder. “Fuck, Genji.” His chest rises and falls, covered in a sheen of sweat. “Give me a real damn kiss already.” 

Genji laughs and climbs up to sit next to him, slides his hand into his hair and kisses him so very gently, pressing as close as he can. “You’re so good,” he murmurs, kissing him again and again. “You did so good, Jesse.” 

“Such a fuckin’ sap.” 

Genji pulls away, and when he does, Jesse follows after him as best he can, which isn’t very well. 

“You need a minute before we get into it?” The candle is still burning on the nightstand, and Genji glances over to it, back to Jesse, raising an eyebrow. 

“If you don’t mind,” Jesse murmurs, though his gaze follows Genji’s, then stares right past him, watching that candle. 

“We don’t have to.” Genji drags his thumb along his bottom lip once again, gentle. “I know it’s a lot.”

Jesse closes his eyes and smiles, leans into his touch. “I want a lot.” 

He’s glad they can do this. They never would have dreamed of it back in Blackwatch, for any number of reasons. Lack of trust, lack of free time, lack of.. a lot of things. 

But Jesse wants a lot. And Genji wants to give him everything.

He still doesn’t get into it right away, just checks the ropes again, makes sure they’re not too tight, leaves kisses everywhere. 

“You hard yet?” Jesse gives a meaningful glance downwards, as if to complain that Genji’s still half dressed. 

“Oh, unbearably.” He is, actually, just seeing that show, but he can bide his time. He can wait. He can watch Jesse for hours and hours and hours, watch him laid out on this bed, watch him get off again and again. 

Jesse’s knee finds its way between Genji’s legs, pressing against him. “I could help with that,” he says innocently, though there’s a spark of payback in his eyes. 

To his credit, Genji takes a moment to collect himself, a surge of pleasure racing up his spine. “Not just yet,” he breathes, though it’s a horribly tempting offer. He’s not exactly limited to just one climax, either, and he _could.._

But this is about Jesse. 

Genji shoves himself upright, pats Jesse’s cheek, and leans over to the nightstand to blow out the candle. They’ll play with danger, but he’s not risking holding an open flame over a tied up Jesse. The wax will stay liquid long enough for them to have fun. “Ready?”

A beat passes. 

“Yeah.”

Genji takes the tin back over to Jesse, careful not to spill a drop, and resettles himself on top of Jesse’s hips, effectively pinning him down. “The second it's too much—”

“I _know,_ Genji.” Jesse’s eyes flick from the candle to his face, giving that crooked little smile to reassure him. He’s nervous, too, but.. excited. 

He really hopes this is as good as Jesse wants it to be. 

Genji tests it on himself first. Maybe because he worries too much. Gently tilts the tin over the back of his wrist to watch the wax drip onto him, and he inhales sharply as it sparks against his synthetic skin. It’s in no danger of hurting him. 

And it’s really not as hot as it could be. This isn’t hard core stuff. It’s meant for beginners. Just to see if they like it, if _Jesse_ will like it, because he’s the one who wanted it and bothered to shave for it. 

“Okay,” he murmurs. “Here we go.”

Jesse closes his eyes. Then opens them again, looking up at Genji, then the candle, and then he closes his eyes once more, like he really can’t make up his mind about which is the better option. 

Genji tilts the tin over Jesse’s chest. A thin stream of wax hits him on his sternum, and he gives a quiet gasp, and Genji watches the white wax start to creep down his chest, towards his navel, but it slowly hardens before it gets past his ribs. 

“Weird,” is all Jesse says. 

Genji laughs. “Good weird or bad weird?”

“Good,” he says slowly, like he’s still evaluating it. “It’s good. Doesn’t hurt all that bad after a second or two.” 

A relief. Genji smiles gently, glancing up at his wrists, where there’s the faintest marks of cigarette burns. Not similar enough to be triggering, he hopes, but Jesse says he enjoys it, and he’s not _that_ self-destructive. Now, at least.

“Close your eyes.” It’s a suggestion, though it's not phrased like one, but Genji’s never been able to make Jesse do something he didn’t want to. He’s a stubborn ass. And he loves him. 

Jesse does as he asks. 

It’s better, he thinks, with the element of surprise. And he doesn’t really want to blindfold him—he trusts him. 

Genji starts to pour again. 

Another thin stream of wax sliding over his skin. His chest, his stomach, settling in the divots of his body, taking seconds to cool and harden, but with each one landing in an unexpected place, Jesse’s breath is hitched, and he still doesn’t open his eyes. 

“You’re doing so well,” Genji purrs, watching the wax and how it outlines the curves of his body, deepening them, that stark white against warm brown skin. Especially how the skin around the wax is just barely reddened from the heat leeching into him. “You look so good, Jesse.” 

“Mm,” Jesse replies. 

“Still with me?”

“Still here, honeybee.” Jesse opens one eye and cracks a smile at him, then can’t resist the urge to glance down at his chest and take in the mess of it. 

“Honeybee?” The candle is about halfway down, now, and wax is slowly starting to harden in it. He pours it lower, closer to Jesse’s body, now, and the difference is a little sharper as Jesse shuts his eyes tight on reflex. The closer to his body, the hotter the wax. 

“Like beeswax,” Jesse mumbles, sounding very distracted. “Beeswax candle.”

Genji pauses, then glances at the list of ingredients on the candle. “This isn’t beeswax, Jesse.”

“It ain’t?” His eyebrows lift, though his eyes stay closed. 

“It’s soy.” Genji sets his free hand on his waist, rubs his thumb back and forth over his skin, trying not to laugh again. “You’d be hurting a _lot_ more if it was beeswax.” 

“God damn it.” Jesse laughs now, his smile infectious. “I don’t got any cute nicknames about soy.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Genji murmurs, starting to pick at the dried wax on his skin and making Jesse shiver. 

“You love me,” Jesse replies, twisted into arrogance and sarcasm. 

“I do.” Genji tilts his head as he watches him, this silly sight in front of him, this absolute trust that he’s been given. “I really do.”

They use the rest of the wax, the air sweet with vanilla as it warms his skin, then cools into a shell, and when he shifts and moves and tries to pull Genji closer, it cracks along his skin, and Genji imagines what would happen if he were to take candles of every color, scatter a rainbow across his skin, the kind of art he could make across his body with the trust he gives him. 

There will always be a next time. 

“Genji,” Jesse whispers, eyes closed, just like he asked, after Genji’s started to peel away the dried wax with his fingertips and left goosebumps along his skin. “I want you.”

“What do you want?” Genji asks, his own voice just as delicate as Jesse’s. 

A soft noise of frustration, his hips trying to lift up off the bed, and his eyes still closed. “Want you to fuck me,” he says, but it’s a question, a request, and Genji’s so drunk on the sight of him he doesn’t even ask him to say please. 

Doesn’t take long for Genji to get fully undressed, for there to be clothes scattered around the room like they’re horny teenagers, for him to settle himself between Jesse’s legs and push into him, make them both groan with the feeling of it. 

He goes slow, because if he doesn’t, he won’t last. He presses kisses to every inch of bare skin he can reach, sucking and biting and leaving as many hickeys as he can, so that tonight, tomorrow, for the next week, Jesse will feel his mark on him and remember this. 

“Genji, fuck, Genji,” Jesse groans, the bed creaking in protest and getting louder. “Let me touch you. Please, fuck.”

“Not yet.” Genji kisses his neck, snaps his hips forward and Jesse’s breathing is just _ragged,_ turning to kiss at the side of Genji’s head in a desperate attempt for more contact. “Okay?”

“So fucking okay,” Jesse rasps, and the noises he’s making are far better than anything Genji thinks he’s ever heard. 

They don’t talk any more, then, lips brushing and bumping against skin, kissing anywhere they can, muffling moans into each other’s mouths, heat spreading like a virus over their bodies wrapped around each other. Desperate and chasing release, the only sound in the room is their bed’s groans and each other’s frantic breaths. 

Jesse finishes first, every part of him wound up tight until he’s out of breath and lost in him, and Genji follows not long after.

Genji all but collapses on top of him, and they both breath together, chests heaving—Jesse out, Genji in, Jesse in, Genji out.

“You’re so fuckin’ good to me,” Jesse mumbles. “Jesus, Genji.” 

Genji laughs, presses a kiss to his brow, and lifts his hand up to pull the loop of rope that takes the whole knot apart. It slackens around his wrists, and in less than a second, Jesse has his arms around him, trapping him against his chest and nestling his face into the crook of his neck. 

“Was it that good?” Genji takes his wrist in hand, rubbing at the marks the rope left. Deep and red, but no blood, no bruises, nothing that will last longer than a few minutes. 

Jesse‘s lips are at his neck, a low hum in his throat. “Mhm.” 

“You’d want to do it again?” 

“Well, hell, Genji, give me a few minutes first.” He laughs breezily at his own joke, fingertips drifting down Genji’s metal spine, then up again, wandering over the body he already knows like he knows himself. 

Genji rolls his eyes at him, but can’t help his smile as he untangles himself from Jesse’s arms. “Come on. I need to get all that wax off you.”

“Oh, this ain’t supposed to stay?” Jesse glances down at his chest, still with that stupid grin. 

“Your jokes are getting worse.” He lifts Jesse’s wrist and presses a kiss to the inside of it, where faint scars still linger and wrap over his skin. 

“You love me,” Jesse says again, meeting his eyes. This time not a quick comeback, but a question, almost. Like he’s still uncertain of where he stands, after all these years. 

“I do,” Genji replies once more, and interlaces their fingers. Palm to palm, scarred knuckles and carbon fiber fingers, pulled together without hesitation. “I love you, Jesse.” 

The corner of his lips quirk up into that same crooked smile. “I love you, Genji.” 

They clean up. Genji makes certain to get every speck of wax off him, spends more time poking at his chest than he really has to, just to watch him squirm. They change the sheets. They shower. They fall back into bed, curl up together, Genji’s head on Jesse’s chest, wrapped up tight in more blankets than they need. 

“Still got that other candle,” Jesse mumbles through the haze of sleep. 

Genji smiles against his chest, finds his hand and squeezes it. “Worth the shave?”

A long pause. He can very nearly hear the gears turning in his head. “Yeah. I think so.” 

Jesse’s heart pounds a steady beat in his ear, and his lungs expand and contract, his chest rises and falls, and Genji doesn’t do anything more than listen to the symphony of him. 

It’s hard not to think about what the next day holds. The habit of running over tomorrow’s schedules together to see how long they can sleep in, if they have surgery, training, a physical, a briefing, a welcome wagon. Any number of things neither of them care for, when compared with each other’s company. 

No one is waiting for them anymore. 

And they couldn’t be happier. 

**Author's Note:**

> come talk to me on my [tumblr!](https://mercurialmoon.tumblr.com)


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